In The Eyes of Strangers
by Bekatfela
Summary: Reno's seen a lot of shit. Life's hard, fate's a bitch and Shin'Ra are cruel to the core. It doesn't bother him as much as Outsiders. Slum-folk are born to it, ya know? But this blue-eyed, green-skinned freak... Unlike every other MAKO-high Shin'Ra thug, he stands out like a sore thumb... because he's not Shin'Ra. AU, Timetravel. Can't promise regular updates.
1. First Impression? Fail

Disclaimer: This work is produced for entertainment purposes only, and no profit motive what-so-ever. Cloud, Reno, Midgar and any environment/beasties mentioned that belong to Final Fantasy belong to Square Enix and/or any affiliated company that helped produce the film who legally have a right to it.

NB: My first not-one-shot. Might be a short fic though.

"Watch where you're going."

The hand holding his wrist – only centimetres away from the man's pocket, and his goal – is strong, holding hard enough that he can't wriggle out but not painfully. But it's when he looks up – because the stranger is impossibly standing where only seconds before he had been kneeling – that Reno knows he's in deep shit

Because glowing at him are Mako eyes, so brilliantly blue they may as well be torches when they hit the shadows, and flecked with the green of Mako itself. No ordinary SOLDIER – a First Class. Because what he had mistaken for simple travelling clothes underneath the jacket is, in fact, so like a black jumpsuit it almost can't be anything else.

Shin'Ra doesn't like people stealing. SOLDIERS don't like being stolen from either, and have enough of that green mumbo-jumbo in their veins to make them damn hard to lose, even for him.

"You watch where you're going, freaky-eyes." He snarls in return, trying to wrench his wrist free. He only succeeds because the man lets him, he knows, and that pisses him off big-time. "Damn Shin'Ra meat-head! Think you're better than everyone else because you got green shit in you."

Everyone in the Slums knows the drill. If you get caught pick-pocketing, and are close enough to be recognised, deny, deny, deny. Get affronted, get angry, and get fucking rude. Because Shin'Ra would shoot you as soon as feed you if they found you doing it, and you tried to explain why. And Shin'Ra always accused before proof was presented, especially if it meant they could get one over anyone defending the Slum-folk.

Look here, their shiny paper would say. Another filthy urchin stealing from the pockets of the hard working citizen.

But the blond guy, with hair that sticks up like he has his own personal Gravity materia, isn't even accusing him. Just listening to him rant like it's the funniest thing in the world, eyes laughing at him and the slightest curl of a smile.

"What are you laughing at, huh?" His mouth talks before his brain can catch up, but Reno goes with it. The guy hasn't made a move, but that doesn't mean anything; the SOLDIER's are freaky fast. Reno might not even see him coming if the man decided to attack.

"Potty mouth." Comes the short reply, before the man turns and goes to walk off.

Every instinct flares when he does. The first thought is relief; Reno had just dodged a dagger even he might not be able to deflect, best of the Slum kids though he is. The second, larger thought is indignation. _Nobody_ walks away from Reno!

"Hey!-" He yells, about to call to that effect, but the guy melts into the crowd faster than he's ever seen anyone do it before. And is gone.

Reno spits in disgust, a roiling feeling in his gut.

"Fucking Shin'Ra."


	2. Flirting? What's flirting?

He next see's the blond in a bar.

For a moment it's so cliché that Reno almost does a double-take, but then actually does one for a completely different reason. Because strapped to the man's back are two of the most shit-hot, big-ass swords Reno's ever seen.

They're jagged and purposefully patterned, oddly so, but fit snugly to the harness that's clearly custom-made. The metal is burnished, gleaming, glowing almost like a pearl Reno had stolen some years ago. The ease with which the guy moves with them indicates he's had them a while.

If there'd been any doubt the guy was a SOLDIER before, there's none now.

The SOLDIER has settled on the bar with the ease of long experience, nursing his drink and clearly thinking about something other than the nice, leggy blond trying to chat him up. For a moment Reno's annoyed, because it was Carla Reno had come to see, but it's almost entertaining seeing the SOLDIER ignore possibly the hottest woman on the Planet in favour of staring off into space. More importantly, it's funny how it seems to make her more determined to get his attention.

Still, Reno didn't come for entertainment; Carla's a great looker, but she's also a great fence. And he's got stuff to offload before he gets caught with it still hot. The other patrons know him, know him well enough to get out of his way sharp, so he makes it behind Carla in seconds.

"Kitty-baby, I'm almost hurt." He purrs in her ear, draping an arm possessively over her shoulder. Carla knows the game, mutters in protest, but they both know that she's watching the blond guy's reaction as much as he is. Barely a flicker, other than a glance to acknowledge his presence. "Abandoning me like that."

"Don't be. I'd have better luck with an ice block." She grumbles, not entirely falsely, but still the blond shows no reaction.

"That's no way to treat a Lady." Reno shakes his head, trying to pin the guy with a disdainful look, but those Mako eyes meet his entirely unfazed. "Come on, I'll show you a better time."

She rises easily enough, sniping at the blond with an ironic –

"Goodbye, Romeo."

'- which has about the same effect as everything else she's tried. They're in the back-room and dealing within minutes, and then after that, the fun he'd promised her starts.

Because as much as Carla is a great fence, she's also great at other things.


	3. SOLDIER's bedside manners suck

The third time he sees the blond, he's got too many of Shin'Ra dog's on his tail to really care about it at first. He'd been caught stealing from one of the Warehouses – upgraded robotic security, quick, lethal and now worryingly silent on their metal claws that no fucker had bothered telling him about – but apparently it was confined to the property, because it was Troopers that were on his butt rather than bullets flying at him at one hundred rounds a minute.

Normally he'd lose them quickly enough – slum kids just didn't run on the ground. They climbed buildings, jumped roofs, flew through the smallest gaps imaginable, and Reno was one of the best – but whatever that Robot had been armed with had had drugs of some description in it. Because the world was spinning, he was seeing crazy colours, and his body just wasn't responding right.

So when he darts down the side of a building and lands in an alley from the ladder, he isn't reacting fast enough to stop himself face planting, or thinking quite clearly enough to identify the shock of yellow to his right for what it is.

The man the shock of yellow belongs to, however, is.

So Reno doesn't meet the ground, but instead is held by two hands which catch him as he folds. He's too dizzy to take advantage of the position – the pockets are temptingly exposed, and the man would have to be fucking fast to catch his hands in this position – but his instincts are as sharp as ever. Because he's fighting those hands the moment he feels them. The shouts of the Troopers only act to make him more desperate. He will not be shot by Shin'Ra, and he will not be caught!

He hasn't fought this long to-!

"Let me go, bastard-!"

"Shut up and keep still." The man's voice is level, like he's helping him up rather than restraining him.

Reno snarls, moving to bite because those hands are fucking strong and wrenching isn't going to do shit except maybe break his wrists –

And then there's a wash of something, warm energy and then the noise of the Troopers, the cars and even the sounds of Midgar fade out. Reno almost flips, but the fact he can still move means he hasn't been paralysed or put to sleep, as he's seen some SOLDIER's do to their captives. Which means it must be an area effect. Why area – area wouldn't help the guy contain him and certainly wouldn't stop him escaping if he managed to get free-

He freezes as a helmet peeks over the roof, and the Trooper begins to climb down, before fighting even more fiercely even as the arms move around his middle and haul him out from underneath the ladder. Some honour this SOLDIER has! Hold the hurt urchin as his death approaches.

"Still and quiet, Reno." And this time it's said in a tone that has him obeying before his brain can catch up, the primal part jumping the gun with instinctive fear. Authoritative, deadly fucking serious. And the guy could crush him easily, Reno knows.

More to the point, how the fuck does the guy know his name?

The Trooper heads down the ladder so slowly it's almost certain the dog is afraid of heights, and Reno has to stop himself from scoffing even as he tries to stare holes into his captor's head. He'll never forget the guys face, and when he escapes Shin'Ra's clutches, he'll hunt the guy to the ends of the earth. Nobody messes with Reno.

When the dog reaches the ground, Reno stiffens, and nearly hisses as the SOLDIER carrying him takes a step back. What the fuck does the guy think he's doing? If he's going to hand Reno over then at least he should do it with some fucking conviction –

The Trooper walks right through the space they've just vacated, not even glancing at them.

Reno can't help it, too shocked to keep fighting. The pieces fall into place like the tumblers of a lock, even through the haze of the drug. Small area effect, tied to Blue Eyes. Moving out of the way. He stares, studies that lean face with hard eyes, at the SOLDIER even as the man deftly steps around the Trooper's sweep pattern – all the while surrounded by that shiny bubble of energy that's just barely big enough for the two of them.

The SOLDIER was… hiding him.

The Trooper pokes around long enough that Reno half expects him to start sniffing at the ground like the loyal dog he is, but eventually moves back up the alley reporting to his boss – loudly – that the 'punk' isn't there. And as quickly as the man is gone, suddenly he's making a downward journey.

His fall to the ground is stopped, and dizzyingly fast he's lying on as if he's been placed there. With efficient motions, Reno's shirt is suddenly off and his wound bared, almost too quickly for Reno to see.

"Yo, man, what the fuck-?" His protest dies as sudden pain flares from the wound, and he recovers himself in time to see the SOLDIER toss a bloody monstrosity of a bullet over his shoulder. That thing was _in him?_ No wonder it had hurt like a bitch. Speaking of –"Leave me alone, bastard-"

He's barely finished the sentence before the wound is packed with something that burns almost worse than the removal of the bullet did, and this time he can't help the full-body shudder. When he uncurls from the pain of it – because _that shit hurt_ – the man is walking away and the pull of the skin is the familiar one of stitches and gauze sticky pad. Fuck, these SOLDIER's were fast.

"What was that for, yo!?" He complains after the blond, trying to shift up and having to steady himself on the wall before he's halfway there.

And within a blink, the guy's gone.

Thoroughly confused, Reno stares after him.


	4. Of Sinning Saints

The fourth time, Reno doesn't meet him by chance. He's been dropping hints in the right people's ears, twisting the right people's arms, to get a feel for the Sword-man's habits – no-one can move through the slums without being noticed by someone, not unless they know the right people to make them turn a blind eye or conveniently forget. Not Shin'Ra, not thief, and certainly not someone who stands out as much as the SOLDIER.

Not, apparently, that the guy has been trying to hide.

He's taken up residence in the old church, the one that the Flower Girl likes tending, are the rumours. At random times, but always returns and departs from there. He's been to shops – Weapon-smiths, black-market materia, dealers that only people who _know people_ know about – and been seen through most of the sectors. And it's not just the sneaky ones that see him.

Everyone knows about the swordsman, and Reno gets the surprising impression that if he'd been a Shin'Ra stooge, they wouldn't have told him shit. Protective of the SOLDIER in a way that no Mako freak has ever been protected by the Slum-folk before.

One conversation rankles him above all others though, because shit like that just doesn't happen in the Slums. Never has, never will, because in the Slums only the Slum-folk look after each-other, and even then it's a complicated web of gangs and alliances built from necessity.

"Leave Chocobo alone, Reno." One grizzled dealer warns him. "He's got allies you don't want to mess with."

"Already?" Reno questions drily. "He's only been here a month, yo."

"And he's killed off five monster dens, healed more than twenty fucking deaders, and stopped Shin'Ra from raiding two places." _Healed one of mine_ , goes unsaid, but Reno reads it anyway. "And he ain't asked a gil for it."

"Regular fucking saint." Reno grunts. Barracus nods warily – even the merchant doesn't believe in coincidence, or in things too good to be true. But something's changed the man's outlook – which would be more paranoid than even Reno's.

"Believe it, rat." The dealer supplies. "He's got half the fucking neighbourhood in his pocket."

It's a friendly warning, but at the same, it's not. Because Barracus has known Reno since he was a foot-pad learning the ropes, it's a warning rather than a threat, but Reno knows that glint. It's the glint that tells him that the man's protecting one of his own.

"Whatever, man." Reno backs off, hands up in a sign of surrender. "Don't mess with freaky-eyes, I get it, yo."

He leaves the shop with a steal material he'll eventually learn how to use, gils lighter but it's not that that makes his mind whirl. No outsider randomly comes to the slums just to do good deeds. It never happens, ever. They always want something, always gain something – usually to the detriment of the Slum-folk.

Determined to track the man down, Reno set's out with a new urgency.

Because the blond was SOLDIER, that something was probably explosive and bad fucking news. Someone needed to keep an eye on their Saint Blondie, and quickly.


	5. Batten down the Hatches

He isn't hard to find.

When he asks the footpad beggars, they look at him like he's dumb. And he kinda is, he has to later admit. Because after all those rumours, he should have pieced it together, really. The explosions rocking through the fourth sector should have clued him in, at the very least.

Because, even Reno has to acknowledge that seeing the guy whopping monster ass like a First Class on steroids is hard to miss. The Creols are unusually large, and obviously more rabid than usual from hunger, but the guy just bats them aside and slices through them like they're nothing. When he's done, surrounded by twenty or so corpses slowly fading into the life-stream, the guy doesn't even look like he's broken a sweat – and is as clean from Monster blood as the last time Reno saw him. His swords though, look drenched in the stuff.

The guy has to notice him – Mako enhances eyesight too - but the blond SOLDIER gives no sign, simply sheathing his blade and drawing a smaller knife in order to cut through the bodies not quite to the point of disappearing.

Monster collected things, in their pouches, in their stomachs. Nobody knew _why_ they did – after all, what good did eating a gil do for a creature? But Reno had never watched someone actually cut them free, or butcher a carcass in such a way bits didn't return to the lifestream. Heard about it, yes, but never seen it done.

Not so saintly, then. But from what he'd heard, the guy had never claimed to be – barely spoken two words, even to the people he'd healed.

"There's better ways of getting gil, yo." Reno starts, edging closer from the train he'd been using as cover.

The guy merely tilts his head, giving him an unreadable look from the corner of his eyes, hands busy on the next Creol corpse. Still that frustrating lack of reaction.

"I'm Reno. But ya know that already, right?" Reno tries not to shift into a defensive stance when the guy rises, the last corpse fast becoming part of the Life-stream. Too fast for Midgar, he notes. "How do you know that?"

The guy quirks a barely there smile, as though he's just cracked a joke.

"You told me, street-rat." Reno bristles, but then his brain kicks in. Teasing?

"Fucking didn't, freaky-eyes." He snarks in kind.

"Did too."

"Did not!" He bites back, only to be stopped short by those Mako-eyes dancing at him, laughing at him. What the hell was he doing, arguing like a five year old footpad caught with his fingers in a stall-owners pot? What the hell was the SOLDIER doing, arguing like a five year old!

"Whatever, man." He nearly spit's in disgust.

He still ends up tailing the guy from the abandoned train-yard, and completely in the open. If the SOLDIER'd wanted to kill him, he would be dead a week ago. The guy seems to appreciate the candour, at least, because he doesn't try to lose Reno. Just lopes through the slums like it's something he's done every day of his life.

He stops in the shops in little alleys that an outsider _never_ knows about, sells it like he's been haggling most of his life and just like the other folk had told him, immediately heads to the Flower Girl's church.

None of this really surprises him. Even the wanton slaughter of every monster that attacks isn't really that odd.

What surprises the hell out of Reno is just how the guy gets there. Because for a Shin'Ra Outsider (not even a Midgar accent), damn can this guy free-run. The Mako only makes it easier for him to move as a blur when he needs to – and just how much is he holding back, so that Reno can follow?

But it's seeing the guy slow, seeing him stop in the doors of the church and look back, that sends a shiver up Reno's spine.

Because something about the loneliness of the church, about the restless sense of _storm_ _coming,_ makes that image haunting and hackle-raising in the same breath. It sets the hair on his arms rising almost as quickly as it ignites the urge to bug the hell out.

Because Reno's seen a lot of shit.

And none of it's made his instincts scream like the end of days is right on his fucking doorstep like this is.

For a surreal moment, the night seems to cold and too heavy, the air alive with electricity, and he knows with crystal clarity that _something's coming_.

Still, he's never been good at making the Sensible Choices.

It would, he decided with the phantom sensation of falling, be a crying shame to start now.


End file.
